Loss
by Paisley Mae
Summary: AU: Lexie struggles to cope with her grief after losing her sister in the plane crash. Can Mark help her? [Alternate season 9]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: My first Mark/Lexie story. I'm testing out an idea that I've had for a while now. Please give me some feedback. I know I have no business starting another story, but this one's been bugging me since I first watched season 9. This story specifically focuses on Mark and Lexie's relationship, had their roles been reversed with Meredith and Derek in the plane crash. It's sad, it's tragic, and being the huge MerDer shipper that I am, it's certainly not easy for me to write. (Don't ask me why I get these dark ideas. I can't help myself). _

* * *

"_**There are all sorts of losses people suffer - from the small to the large. You can lose your keys, your glasses, your virginity. You can lose your head, you can lose your heart, you can lose your mind. You can relinquish your home to move into assisted living, or have a child move overseas, or see a spouse vanish into dementia. Loss is more than just death, and grief is the gray shape-shifter of emotion." - Jodi Picoult**_

It feels wrong: standing here in her kitchen, standing in front of her stovetop stirring oatmeal. A few feet away the baby is fussing. "It's going to be okay," the auburn-haired young woman soothingly tells her niece, even though she struggles to convince herself of there being any truth behind her words. She looks into the baby's moist brown eyes. Tears stream down her dark-skinned face. Lexie knows what Zola wants. She wants her mommy and daddy. Of course she does.

Loss sends various signals through the body. Human beings, as a general rule, experience grief differently. And they don't necessarily experience grief the same each time they lose someone. Lexie Grey knows loss. She knows grief all-too well. She lost her mother the year she graduated medical school. She was the woman who raised her, the woman she'd bonded with from the moment of her conception. Her mother was the first person, even though she was too young to remember, she had lain eyes on when she entered the big, bad world. Nothing compares to losing a parent, especially a mother as wonderful as Susan Grey.

She had only known about Meredith for a short time; nearly four years to be exact. At first, Meredith hadn't even _liked _her. In fact, Lexie is fairly certain that Meredith had hated her at first, even if she never admitted it. Lexie understands why her sister hadn't been her biggest fan in the beginning. After all, her father had chosen her. He'd chosen Lexie and Molly. Meredith had every right to be resentful.

It is all ancient history. They had both managed to put it in the past. Meredith graciously opened her home to her when she was in need of a place to stay. The rest is history. Meredith Grey was her sister, and that was all that mattered.

Since the plane crash, Lexie's chest has ached with a constant dull pain. She can't shake the disturbing images from her head. The images of her dead sister, lying frozen under the plane's wing as the animals chewed on her dead corpse. It was morbid and disgusting. Lexie had never seen something so gruesome in her lifetime. And she can't shake the image from her head. The pit of Lexie's stomach churns. She can still hear Arizona's shrieks and see Cristina trying to fight the animals off Meredith's body. She can still hear Cristina demanding them all to keep their eyes open. Lexie struggles to sleep at night, and when she does, she is haunted with nightmares. So she keeps the light on and the baby close to her.

"MAMA!" the baby cries as Lexie takes the oatmeal off the stove. She freezes with the pan still in her hand. She swallows and chokes on the ounce of spit wadded in her throat. The next she knows is she's coughing and gasping for air, trying to relieve the spit from her throat. She trips on her shoelace and lunges forward. The pan flies across the floor, and Lexie lands on her stomach. Oatmeal is scattered everywhere.

"Damnit!" Lexie cries. She's sobbing. Tears melt from eyes as she steadies her weight on her knees and finds the strength to stand up.

"Mess!" her eighteen-month-old niece declares. She stops crying, and suddenly begins to giggle, as if she finds her aunt's clumsiness amusing.

"So not funny," Lexie mumbles, not near as amused as her niece. She bites her lip, wiping the tears off her face with her hand. She ties her tennis shoe before taking a dark green towel out of the drawer. Lexie begins to clean up the oatmeal mess. "Well, Zo, I guess you're not having oatmeal for breakfast." She wipes the area with 409. Then she opens the cupboard and takes out a box of Cheerios. This will have to suffice the toddler. She pours a the cereal into Zola's little Dora the Explorer bowl and sits it on top of the toddler's high chair. The little girl looks up at her aunt with her big brown eyes.

Lexie studies the toddler's face. Her cute, precious face. It's not supposed to be like this. Zola isn't not supposed to be here right now. She's supposed to be with her mommy and daddy in that extravagant dream house that Derek built for his family. Lexie isn't supposed to be the one serving Zola her Cheerios. It should be Meredith. Meredith should be standing in front of the toddler right now, gazing into those ever-so adorable brown eyes.. Lexie knows she shouldn't be here right now.

_It should have been me, _Lexie thinks. Every day she wishes she could trade places with Meredith. She should have been the one to die in the crash. Not Meredith. Meredith had such a bright future, and she had it all: A baby, a husband, a house. She was about to start her career as an attending. Her life was just beginning.

Lexie feels hopeless. Like her life has no meaning. She's just started her fifth year of residency, and she's Chief Resident. Not because she's earned that position, but because she's last remaining resident in her class. She lashes out her anger, frustration, and grief out on her residents on a daily basis. She's pushed everyone who cares about her away, including Mark.

"I have you," she whispers to her niece. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Zozo." Sometimes she feels like her niece is the only person holding her together right now. Zola smiles and throws a Cheerio at her aunt's nose. "Hey!" Lexie grabs the Cheerio as it falls into her clothing.

"Hehe," Zola giggles, placing a Cheerio in her mouth.

Lexie hears her cell phone's ring tone: _Where Does the Good Go _by Tegan and Sara. It was one of Meredith's favorite songs. Her heart feels heavy when she hears the song; she isn't sure why she has tortured herself by setting it as her ringtone. Through the sorrow, though, she feels joy as memories of her sister flood her head.

_Where do you go with your broken heart in tow_  
_What do you do with the left over you_  
_And how do you know, when to let go__  
_

Like her sister's passion for thirty-second dance parties. According to Meredith, when you are feeling down, you should "dance it out." Lexie has tried it. It never seems to work for her.

_Where does the good go, where does the good go..._

She looks at her phone's screen and sees Mark's photo. _No, _she thinks, and without thinking twice, she ignores the call. She can't. She can't talk to Mark. He'll ask her how she's doing. She's not prepared to answer that question. She's tired of people asking her how she's feeling. It's like everyone's expecting her to go cuckoo, like she did after the shooting. Like they're expecting her to have a mental breakdown.

She looks back at Zola. She can't have a mental breakdown. Zola needs her. She's Zola's legal guardian. Meredith _made _her Zola's legal guardian, meaning that when she was alive, Meredith had trusted her to take care of her daughter in the event that something happened to her. _Damn, Mer, what were you thinking? _Lexie thinks. Didn't she know that her half-sister would be an emotional wreck if something happened to her?

Her phone dings to tell her she has a voicemail, just as Alex Karev enters the kitchen. Lexie holds her phone as her eyes follow Alex to the refrigerator.

"Good morning to you, too," she says bitterly as Alex opens the refrigerator.

"Dude, whatever. Where's the beer?" he asks, scoping the alcohol-free refrigerator.

Lexie heaves a sigh. Alex is the last remaining roommate. "Seriously, you're looking for beer at seven in the morning?" she cries.

Alex shrugs. "I don't have to be to the hospital until ten. One of the many perks of being a fellow. We have residents to do our dirty work." He winks at her, and she clenches her fists together tightly.

"That doesn't answer why you want to drink so early in the morning!" Lexie rolls her eyes.

"Why do you care? I always drink a beer for breakfast. It beats that orange juice crap you drink. You don't have to be such a bitch about it. You know, you could just say we're out of beer," Alex raises his voice; Lexie quickly covers Zola's ears.

"Little ears in the room! And okay, we're out of beer. I thought we should keep alcohol out of the house, you know, since we have a baby in the house…"

"That baby's been here for eight months, and Mer never had a problem with beer in the refrigerator," Alex says, and they both freeze at the mention of Meredith's name. Lexie feels nauseous.

"L-Look. It's my house now. My rules," Lexie says. "You're lucky I'm even letting you stay here. I could kick you out and you would be homeless."

"You wouldn't do that," Alex says, taking an apple out of the refrigerator. He bites into the apple and with a full mouth, he says, "Besides, I'll be out of here soon anyway. As soon as Arizona's better, I'm out of here and never coming back." He storms out of the kitchen. Lexie takes her hands off Zola's head and walks disorientated toward the counter.

She looks down at her phone and sees the voicemail icon in her notification panel. She taps _Call Voicemail. _Her heart rate speeds as she enters her voicemail password. _"You have one unheard message," _the operator tells her. _"Press one to listen to your messages." _ She presses one, and Mark's voice soon fills her ear:

"Hey, Lex...it's Mark," Mark's voice is rattling. She senses anxiousness. "Derek's awake. He's asking for Zola, and I think you should bring her to him quickly. We don't know how much time he has. Richard thinks it could be a surge …"

The dial tone buzzes.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback so far! I wasn't sure how this story would be received due to the role reverse with MerDer. Believe me, it's not easy to write. The way I see it is Meredith is the glue that holds everyone together, so you'll see in this chapter how things really fell apart, particularly for the ones who were closest to her. This chapter focuses mainly on the Mark/Derek friendship. Oh, and bonus points to anyone who can name the poems that inspire the literary analogy I make in the beginning of this chapter. They're two of my favorite poems and have served as inspiration for numerous of my stories._

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Children either experience childhood like a lamb or like a tiger, and this shapes their lives forever. You were loved and nurtured in a manger, or you were taught to fend for yourself in a dark forest. Your childhood was either filled with family night, bedtime stories and goodnight kisses, or it consisted of you hiding under the sheets at night, hoping no one would break into your empty house while your mother was out partying. Maybe your dad took you fishing on weekends, or maybe you spent your Saturdays sneaking into local markets to steal a loaf of bread because your parents didn't have anything in the refrigerator. Maybe you went to church on Sunday morning, or maybe you spent Sunday mornings cleaning up the vomit your mother left in the bathroom when she came home at two in the morning.

So, were you a lamb, or were you a tiger?

You either had no clue what loss felt like, or loss weighed heavily on your heart on a daily basis. Mark Sloan was a tiger, and his best friend, Derek Shepherd, was a lamb. Mark lost his biological father when he was thirteen months old. He didn't even _remember _the guy. He was a ten-year-old boy rummaging through his mother's old boxes in the attic when he first saw a photo of his father. His mother erased every memory of his father after he died; it was also the same time she'd given up on caring for her son. Mark grew up thinking his mother had never loved him, but the pictures told a different story. The entire box of photos from his first year of life, with his mother gallantly smiling in each of them told it all. He'd never seen her smile like that. It didn't take Mark half a brain to realize why his mother was never around: He was a mirror image of his father.

Mark never knew the merry, motherly version of his mother from the photos. He'd only known the flamboyant whore, who brought home a different man every weekend. When he was small, he'd thought his mother was bringing him home a new daddy, but it didn't take him long to realize that wasn't the case. That would never be the case. Luckily, when he was five years old, he met Derek Shepherd on the first day of kindergarten. He'd met Derek's mom that afternoon when his mother didn't show up to take him home. Carolyn Shepherd had so amiably offered to take him home. Derek, however, had insisted that Mark come over in play. Carolyn had insisted they first talk to Mark's mother, so she'd driven Mark home, where they'd found Mark's mom passed out on the living room couch. Mark had been humiliated, but he was grateful when Carolyn offered to take him home.

If Mark had grown up in the Twenty-First Century, child services would have taken him away from his mother with few questions asked.

Mark's heart aches now as he looks at the woman who raised him, sitting next to her son's bedside. Her elbows are on her knees, and her hands are folded together like she might be praying. She's not his mother, but she was more of a parent to him than his own mother would ever be. She is the woman who showed him what the word _family _is supposed to mean. He had called her "Mom" until he was twelve years old, the same year Derek's dad had died. The way Derek lost his father had been terrible and devastating. And Mark felt guilty, particularly because at the time, he'd struggled to feel sorry for Derek. If anything, he'd been _glad _because this meant that he and Derek were closer to being equal. It was horrible, right? To feel glad that your best friend's dad had been murdered? Mark knew it was wrong; it was evil—perhaps devilish. He could never admit any of this to Derek.

Mark's throat burns as he looks at his best friend lying unconscious. _You have to wake up, Derek, _Mark thinks. The idea of losing Derek is an unbearable thought. Mark remembers what it felt like when he'd thought he and Derek would never be friends again. Mark never wanted to lose Derek's kinship, and he'd known sleeping with Addison was wrong. The fact was, he hadn't been thinking. _She _had pursued _him_, and Mark didn't know how to say the word _No_ when it came to sex. He just didn't turn down sex, especially from a woman as elegant and extravagant as Addison. She was gorgeous. In college, he'd wasted a high amount of effort trying to get into bed. But she turned him down relentlessly. She wasn't interested in him; she wanted Derek. She had iterated and reiterated to him that she wasn't the _one night stand _type of girl. She was only interested in a long-term relationship, something that she didn't think he could give her. So, of course, when she came onto him ten years later, he wasn't about to turn her down. He figured that if Addison was coming to _him _to get laid, then things really had gone south with Derek and Addison's relationship.

And he'd been right. Of course he'd been stupid enough to fall for her, too. He should have known that she wasn't _really _interested in him. She was just using him to open Derek's eyes. Sometimes he wondered if she'd purposely set him up to get caught with her, so Derek would pay attention to her. Addison always craved attention, and she would go out of her way to get it.

Derek had fled, though, and he'd never looked back, even in the time Addison had crawled across the country, pleading for his forgiveness.

He'd already let her go and found _her_. Meredith Grey: The anti-Addison. And she was the anti-Addison in every such way, and in all the years Mark had known Derek, he'd never seen him look at another woman like he looked at Meredith. She was quirky. She wasn't glamorous by any means, but she was cute. She wasn't elegantly gorgeous, but she had her own beauty about her. She didn't smile often, but when she did, her smile was infectious. She had the cutest laugh, that would easily light up an entire room. She was dark and twisty, and a former dirty mistress. She reminded Mark of himself in many ways. Mark stares at Derek, knowing she's the reason he isn't fighting. Mark knew in the woods when he, Cristina, and Lexie had found Derek crying over Meredith's cold, dead body that Derek wouldn't fight. She was his glue, and without her, he would be like a lost puppy.

_Maybe not, _Mark tries to tell himself. _Zola. He needs to fight for Zola. _ Zola had completed the circle for Derek. He'd wanted kids for as long as Mark could remember. When they were kids, Derek used to talk about taking his kids camping and fishing, like his dad took him. Although, back then, he talked about having a son, since he was surrounded by girls at home. Having a son seemed unimportant to Derek now. Zola was everything that he'd ever wanted in a child. Derek was the best dad; the better dad out of the two of them. Even though he'd never admit it, Mark knew that Derek was better of the two men. Mark would give anything to trade spots with Derek.

Mark sees the fearful symmetry on Carolyn Shepherd's face. He knows she knows that her son isn't progressing. "Carolyn, you should go get some sleep. You've barely left the hospital in the last week," Mark tells Derek's mother.

She shakes her head. Liquid forms in her teardrops. "I can't, Mark. He's not getting better. I feel like we're losing him. I'm afraid that if I leave, he'll die while I'm away."

"He won't," Mark says with confidence. "I won't let him. I'll kick his ass if he starts to die, okay?" He places his hand on Carolyn's shoulder. She's aging. Wrinkles crease around her eyes, and her bones are frailer. Yet, her posture is perfect. Carolyn Shepherd has always been a strong woman. Even when her husband died, she held her own. She stayed strong for her children. Mark remembers her not allowing her children to see her cry. Though, he remembers at reception, he walked in on her crying in Derek's father's study. She had told him not to tell Derek about what he'd seen, and then she'd wiped her tears away, went downstairs and acted like it'd never happened.

"I can't lose him, Mark," Carolyn whispers; her face is puffy from crying. Real tears are streaming down her face. "He's a splitting image of his father, you know?" Her face turns toward Derek. She's embraced the fact that her son is a splitting image of her late husband, whereas Mark's mother saw her son as only a terrible reminder of her loss. It's funny to see how different people cope with loss differently.

"You won't," Mark says, taking Carolyn into his arms. "He's going to be all right."

"The girls keep calling," Carolyn sobs. "I don't know what to tell them anymore. They want to come out, but I keep telling them not to. I don't want them to see him like this. Besides, they all have their families and careers to worry about, too."

Mark gently rubs Carolyn's back. "You need to get some fresh air. You know, too much hospital air isn't good for you, Carolyn." He lets go of her and sees a little smile on her face. It's the first time she's smiled in days.

"You're right about that," she says. "I spent five years as a Navy Nurse. Hospitals really do get to you."

"So, go take a walk. Lexie should be bringing Zola to daycare soon. You can spend some time with her, then. I'll stay here with Derek," Mark assures his surrogate mother. Finally, she agrees to leave, leaving Mark alone with Derek.

Mark takes the seat once occupied by Carolyn Shepherd. He studies the tubes that connect Derek to oxygen and nutrients. These are the tubes keeping him alive. Mark exhales. "All right, Brain God, the game is over," Mark tells Derek. "It's time to start using that brain. Wake up, Derek. I know you want to be with her. I know you miss her. We all do. But you've got to snap out of this. You have a little girl who needs you. Your mother's falling apart. You have her crying in front of you, Man. Last time I checked, Carolyn Shepherd doesn't cry in front of anyone, whether they're conscious or not."

Derek doesn't react. Mark's heart falls in his chest and he forms his left hand into a fist. His right hand is steadied in a cast. He suffered extensive nerve damage to his right hand in the plane crash. He hasn't stepped inside an operating room since. Jackson Avery is running his service. The situation is less than idea, though Avery hasn't let him down yet. He's proud of his little minion. Mark knows he taught his little posse member well, and now he's all grown up and on his own. Mark is determined to regain function in his hand, though. He has to see the inside of the operating room again, and Callie Torres will make that happen. His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

"Oh, my God," Mark hears a familiar voice gasp from the doorway.

"Amy?" Mark looks up and sees the slender, dark brown-haired young woman standing with her jaw hung wide open. Tears gush from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. "What are you doing here? I thought your mom told you not to come."

"And it's because of that I came," she sobs, her face swollen and blotched from the tears. Her voice rattles as she speaks. "I knew that meant he was in a bad condition, and she didn't want us to see him like this. So I had to come. I had to see him for myself. I haven't exactly been the best sister, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he died and I didn't get to say goodbye."

"Amy?" a hoarse voice alarms both Mark and Amelia. Mark's heart jolts into a raging burst as he turns toward Derek. His eyes are open, and he smiles weakly.

"Well, what do you know," Mark says. "Looks like you woke him up, Ames." Mark grins, seeing as a wide grin expands on Amelia's face as she inches closer to her brother. She places her hand on Derek's and gazes into his eyes.

"That plane did a real number on you, didn't it?" she insists, seeming to be fetching for the right words to say to Derek.

"Yeah, I guess it did," Derek says. Then a look of confusion wears on his face. "What are you doing here, Amy?"

"I came to see you, Derek. I was worried about you. You are my big brother. Uh, well, my _only _brother,"

"I'm not brotherly enough for you?" Mark teases, knowing it's an inappropriate joke to make, given the circumstances, but he can't help himself. He remembers the day Amy was born. When they were kids, he considered her his baby sister too.

"Last time I checked, brothers and sisters don't sleep together," Derek coughs, smirking. Mark's jaw drops, considering he didn't even _know _that Derek knew about Amelia and his one-night stand. Amelia shoots a look at him, and Mark can tell from the look on Amelia's face that she didn't know, either.

"H-How'd you know about that, Derek?" Amelia stammers, pushing a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear.

"I'm your big brother, Amy. I know everything," Derek chuckles. The coloring in his face is getting better. He looks better. A sudden render of confidence grows in Mark.

"I knew it," Mark says, smiling ear to ear. "I knew you wouldn't die on me, you bastard. You just wanted to freak us out a bit, huh?"

"Oh, you know me," Derek smiles. "I just wanted Amy to think about all the crap she's put me through over the years."

"Well, it worked," Amelia admits, wiping her tears away with her hand. "It freaking worked, all right. I could think about on the plane here was all the terrible stuff I've done, Derek. Stealing your prescription pads, wrecking your car, dying in your arms…"

"You little brat," Derek says half-heartedly.

"You have every right to hate me," Amelia sighs.

"I could never hate you, Amy," Derek laughs. "You've put me through Hell and back, but you're my sister. You'll always be my sister. And I want you to know that. I want you to know that you're stronger than you know. You're capable of great things, Amy. The self is one's worst critic."

Amelia nods and weaves her fingers into Derek's fingers. "I'm glad you're not dead. I need my big brother."

"All you need is confidence," Derek tells her. Meanwhile, Mark is trying to reach Carolyn Shepherd, but she's not answering her phone. Mark leaves her a voicemail and tells her to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

Then he sees the interns standing in the doorway.

"Dr. Shepherd is awake?" a dark-skinned, male intern asks in awe. His eyes are wide and a boyish smile fills his square-shaped face.

Word travels fast about Derek. At least a quarter of the hospital is soon standing outside his ICU room. Derek is laughing and joking with the nurses as they take his vitals. His STATs have increased remarkably, a night and day difference. His tubes are disconnected.

And then Mark sees Derek's mother walking through the mass crowd of people.

"What happened?" Carolyn Shepherd gasps. "You said you'd keep an eye on him. Oh, God. Is he….?" Mark can tell she's thinking the worst.

"Come see for yourself," Mark grins, guiding her through the mob of people to her son's room. She freezes in her steps and clasps her hand over her mouth when she sees her son awake.

"Derek!" she cries, rushing toward her son and wrapping her arms around Derek, and then she kisses his forehead.

Derek blushes. "Not in public, Ma."

Tears of joy gloss over her eyes. "Oh, hush. You're awake. I've been sitting by your bed for a week, and you didn't budge. I step out for thirty minutes, and you wake up."

"He did that on purpose," Amelia insists. "To freak you out."

Carolyn Shepherd freezes, noticing her youngest daughter in the room for the first time. "Hey, you," she smiles and extends her arm around Amelia. "I thought I told you not to come."

"Yeah, well, you know me, Mom. You say go east, I go west. I'm not very good at following directions," Amelia winks.

"True. I guess I should have told you to come," Carolyn laughs.

"Hey, he woke up just minutes after I entered the room," Amelia shrugs. "You should be glad I'm here."

"Is that so?" Carolyn asks, raising an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I'm glad you don't know how to follow directions." She smiles proudly and gives her daughter a kiss on the forehead.

Mark watches the Shepherds from the doorway, unable to fight the envy. He knows that if he were in Derek's situation, no one would come. Carolyn may care for him, but he's not her son. He wouldn't expect her to travel across the country for him. He imagines Callie would be by his bedside. She's the closest thing he has to family now, outside of Derek. He and Derek are like brothers; they've known each other their entire lives. Though, Mark wouldn't expect Derek to pine over his death. After all, Mark did sleep with his ex-wife. Mark isn't sure Derek ever truly forgave him for that. Although, if he had never slept with Addison, it's unlikely Derek would have met Meredith.

_Meredith_, Mark sighs, looking at Derek, realizing how happy he looks with his mother and sister. What will happen when they leave his side? What happens when the flashbacks start? Will he be able to stay strong without Meredith?

He realizes Richard is hovering behind him. Mark notices the frown on Richard's face.

"He's awake," Mark says. "Why so glum? Your million-dollar neurosurgeon will be back in the O.R. before me."

"Hm, we can hope," Richard smirks then shakes his head. "It's just, sometimes terminally ill patients get this last burst of energy before…"

"Stop," Mark cuts Richard off. "I know what you're going to say, and that's not it. Look at him. He's cracking jokes. He's his old self. It's not a surge."

"I hope you're right," Richard glooms. "This hospital can't afford another loss." The darkness doesn't leave his eyes. Richard hasn't been the same since Meredith was lost in the crash. No one has. She was the glue that held them all together. Now, her best friend is in psych. Owen tried to help her. He tried to take her home and bring her out of her trance, but after she lit their apartment on fire one night and he found her sitting in fetal position in the middle of the kitchen fire, he was forced to commit her.

"Hey, where's my little princess?" Derek calls. "Where's Zola? I want to see her!"

"Let me call Lexie," Mark says. Derek and Meredith had listed Lexie as Zola's legal guardian in the event something happened to them that left them unable to care for her. Lexie hadn't taken the news lightly, either. At first, she was mortified. She'd just lost Meredith, the sister she'd only known for a short time. Lexie didn't think she was ready to parent Zola, but then, she realized it's what Meredith wanted, so she would respect Meredith's wishes.

Lexie had changed since the crash, too. The crash had affected her as much as the rest, if not more. It had forced her into motherhood prematurely. She wasn't setting kitchens on fire, and she wasn't attacking those who tried to touch her. But she was different. Mark couldn't quite place his finger on it, though. She'd been shutting him out and running the other direction whenever he tried to talk to her. It was like she was purposely avoiding him. He remembered holding her close in the woods while Cristina worked tirelessly to fight animals off Meredith and keep Derek alive. He huddled close to her, trying to share the little body heat he had with her. He wanted to keep her warm.

She would fall asleep in his arms, and once, when he'd thought she was sound asleep, he'd whispered in her ear, "I love you." His heart pounded heavily in his chest, overwhelmed with love for Lexie Grey. It's then that he realized that she was the one. She had always been the one, and he didn't want to live his life without her. Life was too short to live without telling the person you love that you love them.

He didn't know if she'd heard him, but the first thing he'd done after getting back to Seattle was break-up with his girlfriend Julia. She deserves better. She deserves someone whose heart isn't already taken.

Now, he needs Lexie to hear him out. He needs her to stop running. He knows that she loves him too. In fact, he's certain of it. Their time on this Earth is short, and if anything, the plane crash has been an eye opener for him. He needs her to listen to him. He needs to tell her how he feels about her.

So, he calls her. He doesn't expect her to answer, because she hasn't answered any of his other phone calls. So, he's not surprised when she hears Lexie's voice mail. _"Hey, you've reached Lexie Grey. Leave a message_ _and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." _

"Hey, Lex...it's Mark," he says, swallowing. "Derek's awake. He's asking for Zola, and I think you should bring her to him quickly. We don't know how much time he has. Richard thinks it could be a surge…"

He swallows, longing to tell her that he loves her, but he knows what he's said will be enough to get her to him soon.

_There you go again, Mark. You selfish asshole. _


End file.
